


To the Vagaries of the Young

by secretsalex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Albus Severus Potter, Consensual, Cross-Generation Relationship, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face Slapping, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsalex/pseuds/secretsalex
Summary: Draco makes Albus an offer, and Albus takes him up on it. He doesn’t need the money, so what’s in it for him?





	To the Vagaries of the Young

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [hp-sexstars](http://hp_sexstars.livejournal) fest back in 2011.

Albus sneered. “I’m not for sale, Malfoy.”

Draco flicked a slow gaze up and down Albus’ body, from his tight Muggle jeans to his tighter v-neck t-shirt, the pristine white brilliant against Albus’ golden skin. His eyes wandered, taking in the constellation of stars tattooed around Albus’ wrist, the chain at his throat, the silver ring shot through his petulant lower lip. “I beg to differ. You look like a fucking rentboy,” Draco said, letting the profanity trip off his tongue with ease. It was 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon, and he was the pub’s sole customer. 

“And you look like an old pervert with too much money and time on his hands.” Albus snorted. “You really thought you could just walk in here and buy me? You thought you were the only wizard who tried to do it after those photos ran?” 

“No, I can’t imagine I’m the only one,” Draco said, shifting on the barstool and pulling a pack of Galoises from the pocket of his robe. He tapped one out and lit it with an ornate silver lighter—an affectation he favoured to using a spell. There was something elegant about the Muggle accoutrement. He thought back momentarily to the photo spread Albus had mentioned. It had run in a recent issue of _Chasing the Broomstick_ , featuring a nude and wanton Albus writhing around and doing inappropriate things with his old Slytherin tie. “I’ll have a vodka neat, by the way. The finest you have—whatever that may be,” he added, looking around the bar with disdain. 

“It’s Muggle,” Albus said, sounding gleeful as he pulled a bottle of French-distilled from the shelf and poured it with a careless slosh into a highball glass. He slid it across the bar to Draco, who caught it deftly and frowned. 

“With a twist, you philistine. And a cooling charm.”

Albus rolled his eyes, plunking a slice of lime directly into the glass and waving his wand over the top. “Happy now?”

Draco exhaled a long plume of smoke in the vicinity of Albus’ face. “Marginally. You’re a rather shite bartender.”

Albus flashed a cocky smile. “You’re about two decades older than most of the customers, _Mr. Malfoy_. They just want shots until they’re drunk enough to fuck in the loo.”

Draco raised his glass. “To the vagaries of the young.” 

Albus rolled his eyes, turning away and wiping down the bar. “Yes, the young. So what are you doing here?” he shot over his shoulder. 

“Propositioning you, of course.”

“And I told you I’m not for sale,” Albus replied, leaning down to pick up an errant coaster and inadvertently giving Draco an eyeful of his smooth lower back. 

“Everything—and everyone—is for sale.” 

Albus straightened and turned to face him, pretty lips curved in a confident smile. “I’m not interested in the Malfoy Galleons. Partial heir to the combined Black and Potter fortunes, remember?” He jerked his head towards the door. “Knockturn’s just down the block—go find a pretty boy who’ll blow you for the price of a hot meal.”

Draco shuddered, stubbing out his cigarette with a delicate twist and Vanishing the remains from the dusty ashtray. “I think not. No need for money, hmm? I suppose your father financed this little enterprise?” he asked, looking around the rather ratty bar with its shabby booths and cramped dance floor. “It certainly has a . . . Potteresque charm.” 

“Two years open and we’re packed every night,” Albus said, pride evident in his voice. “And yes, Dad bankrolled us, so I’m not looking for a _Daddy_.”

Draco laughed despite himself. “Pity—although I hardly offered my services in that capacity. I just want a fuck.”

Albus’ smile was as cocky as ever, although Draco noticed him swallow. “And how much of the dirty Malfoy money would you have offered me?”

“As much as it took. And the money is certainly not dirty.”

“I’d say it’s as dirty as you are.” Albus rested his elbows on the bar, leaning over until he was a touch too close to Draco for propriety. “And that seems pretty dirty—I was in Scorpius’ year at school, you know. Hell, we were in the same dorm. _Daddy_.”

Draco took a sip of his drink, watching Albus coolly over the rim. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you liked calling me that. And yes, I remember that you were in Scorpius’ year. How upset your parents must have been when you Sorted Slytherin.”

Albus laughed, still leaned over the bar. “Not a bit. Living up to the namesake, you know.”

“Ah, Snape. Yes, your father dearest saw only the worst in him before his death, and only the best after. Very Gryffindor of him.” 

Albus pushed away from the bar and picked up his abandoned rag, wiping aimless swaths across the bar. “Insulting my father isn’t the best way to get into my pants, you know.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “And what would be the best way to ‘get into your pants,’ as you so charmingly put it?”

“Isn’t one,” Albus sing-songed. “I’ve no interest in sleeping with old ex-Death Eaters in the throes of a post-divorce midlife sexual identity crisis.” 

Draco smirked, not put off in the least by what he guessed Albus intended to be a sharp blow. “My sexual identity has been set in stone since before you were born,” he pronounced blandly. 

At that, Albus looked up. “How’d you get Scorpius, then?”

“Oh, good grief. The usual way, you ignorant child.” 

“Oh.” Albus considered that a moment, then gave a melodramatic shudder. “Gross.”

Draco felt the corner of his mouth turning up. “Scotch and a few well-cast charms do the trick.”

“Good to know, if I ever find myself forced into straight sex at wandpoint.” 

Draco smiled again, tipping back the last of his vodka. “Thank you for the drink, Potter.” He slid a card across the bar. “Owl when you’ve set your price.” 

Before Albus could respond, Draco had swept out of the bar and onto the crowded street. 

@@@@@@@@@@@

It had been two weeks since Draco had walked into The Snitch. Two weeks since he’d offered to buy Albus’ . . . time. 

If Albus were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he’d been waiting for Draco to reappear. That every tall, blond wizard who walked through the door—and there weren’t that many, really, that hair screamed _Malfoy_ like it was written in flashing fairy lights—made him do a double take.

But he wasn’t being honest with himself. At least, he wasn’t until one evening after he and James had split a bottle of Firewhiskey. They’d been celebrating the end of a successful karaoke night that had included Teddy Lupin’s massively popular rendition of that old Weird Sisters classic, “Dance Like a Hippogriff,” complete with lewd pelvic thrusts, and Albus had too much to drink and too much time on his hands. James had Apparated home to his own flat, and Albus had retired to his rooms above the bar, stumbling up the stairs and finding himself, quill in hand, writing out a letter to Draco Malfoy. He’d sent Hedwig IV off with it without so much as re-reading it before collapsing into his unmade bed and wanking himself to sleep with images of a tall older wizard with long, delicate hands and eyes the color of the Thames on a cold morning. 

@@@@@@@@@@

Draco’s reply appeared late the next day. 

_Albus,_

_I told you everyone has a price. Be at the Manor at 7:00 PM tonight. Floo, don’t Apparate._

_DM_

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

When Albus stumbled through the Floo into the enormous formal drawing room of Malfoy Manor, he cursed his father, who had apparently gifted his children with a genetic inability to use a Floo gracefully. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as Draco was nowhere in sight. In his stead was a google-eyed house elf stationed at the hearth, who took it upon himself to help Albus up and energetically sweep off his robes, chattering all the way. 

“Mr. Albus Potter is looking like his famous father,” the elf chirped, tugging on Albus’ hand. “This way, this way. Master Draco is not wanting to have to wait, and you is already late!”

“I’m not late, it’s only—“

“It’s a quarter past, and Master said you were to arrive at 7:00,” the elf interrupted. “Grungy was afraid he would be closing the Floo soon!”

“Your name is Grungy?”

“Grungy the III,” Grungry chirped, puffing out his chest. 

“Ah,” Albus said in a vague way. He hadn’t known elves’ names were honorifics. Who the hell thought a name like Grungy should live on?

“Okay, Mister Albus Potter, you is supposed to be going into Master Draco’s study now,” Grungy continued, still dragging Albus at a brisk pace through the Manor. “That door,” he added, pointing unnecessarily at a rather ostentatious set of double doors. 

“Erm, thanks, Grungy.”

“Mister Albus Potter is most welcome. Grungy would say to call if you need something, but Master Draco is saying you is not to be disturbed.”

“I’ll bet he did.”

“Knock, Mister Albus Potter!” Grungy warned as Albus approached the doors. “Master does not like surprises.”

“Got it,” Albus said, but Grungy had already disappeared. 

Albus knocked as instructed, but several moments passed in silence before the doors slowly opened before him. Sitting at a huge, ornate desk in a chair that might as well have been a throne was Draco Malfoy, his wand still swishing lazily at the door. 

“You certainly think a lot of yourself,” Draco said in a drawl, watching as Albus entered the room. He tapped his wand on a piece of parchment in front of him. “One thousand Galleons, hmm?”

Albus smirked and crossed the threshold, hands thrust into his pockets to pull his low-slung jeans even lower, exposing the vee of his hipbones. “I knew you’d be desperate enough to pay it.”

Draco’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you mean rich enough to blow twice that on an evening with a snotty little slut, then yes. You should have asked for more.”

Albus shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t need the money.” 

“Then why do it?” 

Albus smirked, meeting Draco’s gaze with impertinence. “Maybe I wanted to know what it was like to play rentboy for an old pervert.”

Draco’s gaze was absolutely even, his voice even more so. “Maybe you wanted to know what it was like to be a filthy little cockslut, a worthless hole for your betters to fuck.”

Something about Draco’s words sent a stab of desire through Albus’ stomach—desire tempered with some other, less tangible response. “My betters, huh?” He strode forward, moving until he was in front of Draco’s desk, and leaned over it. “If you were _my better_ , why would you be paying for it?”

Draco leaned back, amusement playing across his face. “Because I have a taste for snotty, classless little whores, apparently.” He paused, eyes flicking up and down Albus’ lean body appraisingly, lingering overlong at his crotch. “And you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

“Just playing the part, Mister,” Albus shot back, running a hand through his dark hair and shaking it away from his face. “For a thousand Galleons, I’d say it’s my job to look like I’m panting for it.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned farther across Draco’s desk. “For any prick who can afford it.”

Draco barked laughter, a cigarette-rough staccato burst, and stood up suddenly, rising to his full height behind his desk and towering over Albus. “I can certainly afford it. Although I’ve never paid so much for something so . . . cheap.” He moved quickly, a sinuous slip of movement and he was around the desk, advancing on Albus. 

Albus turned to face him as he approached, his arse flush with Draco’s desk. Draco took advantage, stepping in front of Albus and effectively trapping him between the desk and Draco’s body. 

“Are you ready to quit playing and get fucked?” Draco’s voice was low and dangerous, gravel at the bottom of an icy stream. 

Draco stepped forward again, moving to place his thigh between Albus’ legs, but Albus slid to the left, brushing past Draco and pulling free. 

He took a few steps back, then around to the side of Draco’s enormous desk. He crossed his arms in defiance. “I think you should work for it, old man.” His face was flushed, his eyes shining hot. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already paid for it—I’m hardly going to chase you around my study, you stupid boy.” He reached into the pocket of his robes.

“No wands,” Albus interrupted. 

Draco paused, then brought his hand back up. “No wands, hmm?” He shrugged. “As you wish.” He rounded the desk, reaching out and grabbing Albus’ arm. It was the first time they touched.

Albus inhaled, surprised by the strength of the hand around his bicep. Draco pulled, hard, until Albus was flush against his body. He reached down, palming Albus’ crotch obscenely. “Hard already—what a good little comeslut you are. Your father would be so very proud.”

“Don’t fucking talk about my dad, you prick.” 

“No? Shall I pretend you’re a nameless little hustler I found on Knockturn?” Draco chuckled, running a hand over Albus’ cheek, grasping his jaw in a grip just shy of painful. “You’re too pretty for that, though, aren’t you? A little too clean, a lot less desperate—the kind of filthy fucking whore who spreads his legs because he wants to, not because he has to. You don’t even need the money. You just want to get fucked.” 

“Can you even get it up?” Albus asked, twisting his lips. “Or are you just going to talk all night?”

“Tsk, tsk. All these insinuations about my age,” Draco said, his voice low and mocking. “I wonder if you keep bringing it up because it gets you off—getting fucked by a man instead of another little boy? Hmm.” He released Albus’ chin and grabbed his prick again, stroking it hard through his jeans. “I think you’re desperate to know what it’s like to get well and truly fucked—to get bent over this desk and taken by someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. Is that right? Hmm?”

Albus sneered, refusing to answer. Draco shrugged, grabbing Albus by the arm and dragging him around the desk. He led him around to his chair, then pushed Albus to his knees in one vicious thrust before taking his seat. “Now, _little boy_ , you can have the privilege of sucking my cock.” He mumbled a spell and his robes opened, despite the fact that his wand had never left his pocket. “So much for that no wands rule, hmm?”

Albus couldn’t hide the surprise on his features, though he tried to school them into nonchalance. Until he’d seen Draco’s little display, his father was the only person he’d seen with enough power for wandless magic. “Cute trick,” he muttered.

Draco grinned, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling out his prick. “I could say the same about you. Now start earning your money, slut.”

Albus sneered, but Draco didn’t respond, just held his cock in a light grip and tapped it obscenely against Albus’ cheek. 

Albus felt his cheeks heating, and he had to look down. Draco pressed his cock against Albus’ mouth, running it over his lips, and to his dismay, Albus found his lips parting. He started to lean forward, to open wider, but Draco pressed his advantage immediately, shoving his hips forward and gripping Albus’ hair, slamming his cock down Albus’ throat. 

Albus choked and gagged, squirming under Draco’s onslaught. 

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” Draco murmured, pushing forward with ruthless power, refusing to allow Albus time to catch his breath. “Not such a man of the world.” He carded his hands through Albus’ hair, tangling his long, slender fingers in it, never giving up control of the blowjob, even as his hands moved gently. 

Albus finally pushed, hard, against Draco’s thighs and pulled his head back. “Fuck you,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and trying to catch his breath.

Draco just stared down at him, impassive and perhaps amused. “That pathetic attempt at a blowjob was not worth the thousand Galleons you’re charging, Potter.”

Albus scrambled to his feet and whirled away, stepping around the desk and facing Draco over it. “That was not a blowjob, you old pervert. That was an assault.”

@@@@@@@@@

Draco felt his lips twitch toward a smile again. Merlin, something about Potter’s mouthy little spawn, all bratty insolence and slouching entitlement—it was bewitching. He reached down, tucking his still-hard prick into his trousers and slipping out of his robe before he stood up. “Assault, is it? Can one ‘assault’ his hired whore?”

“You just did,” Albus replied, turning to keep his eyes on Draco as he rounded the desk and approached him. 

Draco was in front of Albus in a matter of seconds, his long legs easily covering the space between them in a few smooth, dangerous strides. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on the crotch of Albus’ tight, faded Muggle jeans. “You love it, you little pricktease.”

Albus froze for a moment, his slightly crooked white teeth appearing to worry his bottom lip. He groaned when Draco palmed his cock, long fingers coming to rest on his balls. “Ugh,” he groaned, shaking his head. “No—just giving you what you paid for.” He stumbled backwards before regaining his footing and darting across the room, putting the chaise between himself and Draco. 

Draco stalked forward, each step deliberate, his eyes steady. “Giving me what I paid for would have been blowing me like a professional instead of choking all over my cock like you’d never seen one before.”

Albus snorted, beginning to edge around the chaise to keep it between himself and Draco.

“Sit the fuck down.” Draco spoke as soon as Albus started to move, and the command in his voice was so certain, so sure, that Albus complied as if under Imperius, his arse hitting the chaise so suddenly he looked surprised to find himself there. 

“There, that’s better,” Draco said, advancing until he was standing directly over Albus. He reached out, grabbing Albus’ wrists and pulling him up to standing. Without missing a beat, Draco pushed Albus to the armrest of the chaise and bent him over it, trapping both of his thin wrists in one hand and running the other underneath Albus’ shirt. 

“Now, if you’re done playing, we’re going to start.”

Albus made a move to resist, starting to squirm under Draco’s hold, and Draco pulled his hand from Albus’ abdomen and brought it down hard on his denim-covered arse. “Don’t think I won’t spank the shit out of you if it’s necessary. I will turn you over my knee like a five-year-old. I suggest you not test me.”

Albus froze, not even breathing for a moment. 

“As I was saying,” Draco continued, his voice so bland it sounded almost bored, “we’re going to start now.” He took advantage of their positions to thrust his crotch against Albus’ arse a few times, more as a display of dominance than anything else. “I’m going to let go of you, and you’re going to stand up, take off that ridiculous Muggle outfit, and do as I say.” 

Somewhat to Draco’s surprise, Albus appeared to follow his directions when he let go and stepped away. Albus pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing the toned, late-adolescent body Draco remembered rather vividly from the _Chasing the Broomstick_ spread. Tossing the shirt to the floor, Albus glared at him, his hands slowly rising to the button of his jeans. 

Draco nodded, cool and appraising in his gaze. “Go on, off with them,” he said, taking a seat on the chaise and stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“Bossy old fuck,” Albus muttered, dropping the jeans to the floor and stepping out of them along with his trainers.

“Mouthy little whore—and what a whore you are,” Draco replied, looking pointedly at Albus’ erect cock, bobbing in front of him and announcing the fact that Albus had worn nothing under his jeans. “Now come here. On my lap.” 

Albus rolled his eyes but moved, straddling Draco with a casual grace that Draco had never before associated with Potters. Albus leaned back, bracing himself with his hands on Draco’s knees and looking down at Draco with a self-satisfied grin. Draco grudgingly gave him points for audacity. Most people wouldn’t have managed that sort of confidence after being stripped naked by the man who’d bought them for the evening. 

“Now what, old man? Got me where you want me and all that?”

Draco smirked, then lunged forward before Albus could react. Grabbing Albus by the shoulders, Draco smoothly flipped them so that Albus was on his back on the chaise and Draco was on top of him. Not bothering to secure Albus’ hands, Draco wrapped one large hand around Albus’ throat and held him down with the mere threat of pressure. “ _Now_ I have you where I want you. Are you done acting like an insolent brat?”

Albus rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Draco silenced him with a slap to his cheek. It wasn’t particularly hard, but it raised a red mark on Albus’ skin and—more importantly—stunned him into silence. Before he could react, Draco leaned down and kissed him. 

It was a harsh kiss, controlling and dominating, all about a display of power rather than affection. Draco demanded entrance to Albus’ mouth, and Albus gave back as good as he got, fighting for control. When Draco finally pulled back for air, Albus immediately opened his mouth again. 

“I don’t kiss johns, so stay the fuck off me,” he said, eyes narrow and sparking with defiance. 

Draco backhanded him and brought his mouth back down to Albus’ again. 

With his mouth still crushed against Albus’, Draco cast a silent, wandless spell that left his right hand slick with lube. Without any prelude, he shoved his hand between Albus’ legs, bypassing his dick to stroke the skin behind his balls and then dive straight for his hole, tracing the rim roughly. 

Albus jerked under him, breaking the kiss to stare up at Draco, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the left side of his face stained a lurid red from Draco’s hand against him.

Draco leered and pushed one finger inside him, looking down at the panting boy beneath him who suddenly looked like exactly what he was—a mouthy teenager playing a game he couldn’t quite control, despite all of his bravado. 

“If I’d known shoving a finger up your arse was the way to get you to shut the fuck up, I’d have done it as soon as you got here,” Draco said, his voice cool and steady. Albus opened his mouth to respond, and Draco pushed a second finger inside him, grinning when it silenced him. 

Draco released Albus’ neck and moved his left hand down Albus’ body, across the narrow chest and heartbreakingly visible ribcage to land on his cock, which was pulsing hot and red against his belly. Draco gripped it surely, stroking in time to the thrusts of his fingers. At the contact, Albus groaned, his hips rising to meet Draco’s hand around his cock, falling to push back against the hand at his arse. 

“That’s good,” Draco crooned. “That’s it—such a good little cockslut.” 

Albus’ glared. “Fuck you.”

Draco laughed, shoving a third finger inside Albus without warning. “You’ll be getting fucked, sweetheart.”

At his words, Albus tensed, moaned, and came with a strangled cry. Draco laughed, low in his chest, even as he jerked Albus’ cock through the spasms. “Like that idea, don’t you?” He pulled his fingers from Albus’ arse suddenly, making Albus groan at the loss. Draco reached down, unfastening his trousers and pulling out his cock, not even bothering to untuck his white silk shirt. He conjured more lube and slicked himself before shoving Albus’ legs up roughly. 

“God, you wanton little whore.” He lined up against Albus’ hole. “You filthy little slut.” He pushed in, hard and fast, not bothering to be gentle, and Albus screamed at the invasion, his whole body far too sensitive after his orgasm for such treatment. 

“Shh, take it,” Draco whispered, letting his voice be almost soothing. 

“It’s—it’s too much,” Albus breathed, writhing. “Too much, you have to wait—“

“Shh,” Draco said again, putting Albus’ legs onto his shoulders until Albus was nearly bent double. “I know it hurts. I know it’s too much after you just came, I know.” He snapped his hips, his actions at odds with his comforting words. 

“Oh, god, god, _fuck_ ,” Albus moaned, twisting and writhing under Draco’s onslaught. 

“Yes, tell me. It’s okay, let it go. I know, I know.” Draco fucked him harder, driving into him ruthlessly, but he let one hand trail down Albus’ cheek, tracing the strong jaw. “That’s right. Just take what I give you.” 

Albus was beautiful, Draco thought abstractly, looking down at him, his eyes fallen mostly shut, head thrown back, hands skating uselessly at Draco’s shoulders, over his biceps, never quite gaining purchase. His prick, so recently spent, was already half-hard again. 

“You like getting fucked like this, don’t you? When it’s too much to do anything but lie there and take it? This is why you owled me, isn’t it?”

Albus’ eyes snapped open, skittered up to meet Draco’s, then fell back again. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted.

God—that simple confession, that one word repeated at him, was enough, and Draco moved faster still, wanting to fuck Albus to pieces beneath him, to reduce him to shards of himself.

Albus cried out, a moan that was agony and ecstasy and abandon. Draco came silently, eyes wide open and staring down at Albus.

@@@@@@@

“Umm. Wow. So, I should go.” Albus had felt so confident when he’d walked into Draco’s study, so sure that he would control this situation. But now, feeling fucked wide open and sprawled across the chaise, naked and debauched and still sticky with come between his thighs while Draco was still dressed, he had no idea what to do.

Draco turned to look at him, cocking one eyebrow up. “I’d say I paid enough for you to stay the night and take my dick down your throat tomorrow morning.” 

Albus studiously ignored the heat spreading over his cheeks. Fuck this. He wasn’t giving in and letting Draco feel like he’d won something tonight. “Hardly.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, then. Your Galleons are on the table.” He pointed to a small sideboard near the doors. “I’m not certain you earned quite all of them, but I’m feeling generous.”

“Whatever,” Albus muttered, standing up and tugging on his clothes.

“Be here at the same time next week,” Draco said when Albus was fully dressed and making his way out. He sounded almost off-hand about it, which infuriated Albus.

“Who says I’m doing this again? I’m not actually a hustler, Malfoy.”

“And I’m not actually paying you next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [secretsalex](http://secretsalex.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and I'll savor your comments like a fine wine.


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